The Wet Work Artist and the Pavement Artist
by DontNeedHelmetGotAHardHardHead
Summary: "Admittedly, yes, it was a bit stalkerish. But in a really good way, because he only had her welfare in mind." A two shot about a little scene in which Cammie and Zach see other during the winter break after OSOT. Slight spoilers! First chapter in Zach's POV and second in Cammie's. As the title would imply.
1. The Wet Work Artist

**The Wet Work Artist**

There were a lot of terms for what he was. Killer. Assassin. Hit man. Hunter. But the most ironic of them all was wet work artist. Could killing people really be an art? Wasn't art something that was beautiful? He couldn't imagine the pressing guilt of being responsible for the end of people's lives as beautiful. Or maybe art was pure feeling. In that case, killing couldn't possibly be an art. Killers were supposed to be hollow, emotionless shells who thought only of completing the mission. They weren't supposed to feel. (Not that it ever stopped him). Yes, the term wet work artist was most certainly an ironic one. And the irony, he thought, smiling wryly to himself, was why he liked that term the best.

Zach walked down the semi-crowded street on Christmas Eve, accompanied by no one. (There was no one he wanted to be with, anyway). He hadn't decided to go with the Baxters that Christmas break. (He was no one's pity case). The weather was cold, but he was warm. (He had gotten a new jacket since he gave his other one to a certain Gallagher girl. _His _Gallagher Girl). And hands in his pockets, he strolled down the main street of The Middle of Nowhere, Nebraska.

Admittedly, yes, it was a bit stalkerish. But in a really good way, because he only had her welfare in mind. Lately, keeping her safe had been all on his mind, (not that he wasn't losing hours of sleep over her before).

So, yes, he had followed the alluring pull of her to Nebraska that Christmas. Not that he had anyone to spend it with.

One could ask, why Zach? Why should a seventeen year boy have no one to spend his Christmas with? Wasn't this the time to reconcile with the family, in the true spirit of cheer and giving? Well, see, that's the thing, he would answer, he _didn't_ want to reconcile with his family. But it wasn't much of a loss. They were never very religious anyways.

Nebraska, he found, was shamelessly religious, though. Nativities were on nearly every yard, along with colored lights and reindeer and other more _commercial_ aspects of the season. Somehow, though, the balance made him feel happy. Or maybe it was just knowing that she was probably happy right then.

Oh, he knew where she was. At her grandparents' house, probably laughing along with them, having a grand old time, despite recent events that would have devastated any normal person. Lucky for her, (and him because, frankly, his sanity relied heavily on hers), she wasn't just some normal person. So he pictured her with her family, (and Joe, who had joined her and Rachel to the farm), and she was smiling and happy and whole. And he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she was missing him.

Around him, people were happy, smiling, laughing with their families. People dressed up as Santa rang bells, reminding people that the season wasn't happy for everyone, and dutifully, many kind souls made donations to the poor. He half smiled at the gestures and tossed in some money, telling himself that it was just to blend in, because assassins weren't allowed to take pity. That led to failed missions.

He allowed his mind to wander to his mother, a dark path that he didn't let himself think about often. He thought about the life she thought she had planned for him. The life he thought that he was going to have until he met Joe, who taught him that there were other ways to live. (He taught him other things, of course). Ways of life that didn't involve mindless murder for its' own sake. Of course, he would still be responsible for killing a few people, (it came with the career path), but it wouldn't be his job. He wouldn't let it be his job.

He thought of Cammie, who had already killed someone. In that awful moment out there in the woods, when Bex was about to be killed, it was the hit man who was killed. And Cammie had done it. Later when he had asked her why she didn't let him kill the man, she said she didn't know, that couldn't even remember doing it. But he had seen what she hadn't said. He had felt it in the way that she tried to heal from that day. He knew that the only thing she wouldn't have done to save her best friend… was wait. And he understood because he would never wait a second trying to save her life.

He tried to stop thinking so darkly, because he knew where his next thoughts were headed and he did not like them. Cammie was happy, so he should be happy.

As he wandered around the small town, (attracting no attention of course), the temptation to go and see her got stronger. Even a glimpse would be satisfactory; the best Christmas present someone could give him. And not just because it would be the only Christmas present he'd ever gotten.

So standing on the corner of a street, surrounded by people who all had real families to go home to, he made a wish, which was unusual for him, because assassins weren't supposed to want things, but he made the wish all the same. He wished that someday, he might have a family to go to at Christmas time, people who genuinely wanted him at a place that he could really call home. And he also wished that one of those people could be Cammie, the girl who was happy right now, but maybe-just-maybe could be a little happier with him there.

Then he smiled a little sadly, because he didn't believe in wishes.

He jolted out of his sad, wistful reverie to realize that he had started walking again, directly towards where he knew Cammie was. _Oh, well,_ he thought to himself, _it was going to happen eventually._ He told himself that he would only look at the house, and if she was outside he would see her and get his Christmas present. And at the time, he had every intention of carrying out this plan.

But of course, it wouldn't be the first time he was leading himself to give into temptation. Not going with the Baxters was, coming to Nebraska was, and allowing his feet to take him anywhere was. (He should have known they'd take him to her).

Although the road to the farm wasn't at all populated (he was surrounded by _farmland_), he had no trouble blending in, seeing that it had gotten dark after leaving the more crowded main street. (Of course, crowded was a relative term, because it was still in the middle of nowhere).

No, he definitely wouldn't have a problem going about unnoticed. His biggest problem was stopping himself from giving into her pull.

Finally, he could see the house at a distance, and his heart twisted at the thought of her being _right there._ The house was small and quaint, and he could instantly see why she liked it there so much. It was the poster house for a _home._

The house wasn't surrounded by much, just a small barn and a complete sense of openness. Around him, he could see the entire horizon that looked like a huge bowl with the whole world in it. The sky swallowed up the Earth, of course, dotted with stars and sprinkled with airplanes, and he could already feel himself getting attached to the feeling of complete freedom. He could run in any direction, and he didn't have to hide because there was no one to hurt him here.

But he wasn't stupid enough to really believe that.

He wasn't stupid enough to believe in much of anything.

Suddenly, he saw a bit a movement from that house. Whether it was by instinct or by the actual want of a cover, he dropped to the ground, not making a sound. Cammie came out, and he couldn't help but smile. He'd gotten his first ever Christmas present.

But the day wasn't done with granting wishes.

He saw her moving about stealthily, but completely unnecessarily, because the Circle did not even know that she was still alive. Still, it comforted him to know that she was still being cautious, watching her back, protecting herself. It was something he could never seem to do right.

He watched as she slowly climbed up the barn to its rooftop, and she lay down. As he watched her watch the stars, he could imagine her bliss. She was surrounded by the people who loved her most, and she was up high, (one of her favorite spots to be), and she was looking at the most remarkable display of beauty by the sly that he had ever seen.

As he got closer to the barn, (staying out of her line of vision, of course), he kept on watching her, wondering what she was thinking about. Was it her family, who lovingly awaited her inside? Or of the Gallagher Academy, and all of the people she missed seeing inside of it? Or maybe she was reflecting on the last semester's events, and anticipating what they would have to do this semester. What they would have to _finish_ this semester.

Whatever it was, Zach came to a halt as he got even nearer to the barn and realized that she didn't look happy. Actually, she looked pretty miserable to him, who had spent the last two years learning how to read her barely-there facial expressions. But there in the dark he could see that she did not look like she was enjoying herself in the slightest.

He realized that it had never occurred to him that she would be unhappy this winter break. He'd always thought that being with her grandparents was a good time, when she could let go of her stressful spy life and be almost normal. But it was obvious to him that she wasn't happy, so he decided he should intervene.

Yes, it was against his original plan. But in all fairness, he had also planned on her being at the very least content with her life; so really, he was just sticking to the plan.

Was what he told himself.

He climbed up the barn, not making a sound. He didn't alarm her, which he was proud of because he knew that she had been alert that night.

She was laying down on the slant of the roof, and he was on the other side watching her, trying to figure out what could be wrong.

What she did next ensured that he would never breath properly again.

Her eyes were open and staring at the horizon, where the Earth meets the sky, but in the next moment they fluttered close, and she threw her head back. For the first time he realized that there were tears in the corners of them.

"_Zach,"_ she whispered softly.

**Should I be working on my story? Yes. Do I have writer's block? Also a yes.**

**And I figured that the best cure for writer's block is writing, hence… this two shot. **

**Thoughts? I'd love to hear them.**

**-Angel**


	2. The Pavement Artist

**The Pavement Artist**

Blending in, checking tails, switching disguises, staying still. It was in her blood. A part of her. What she was born to do. Her eyes sparked with mischief as she thought about it; _she was born to be anyone._ And yes, the elite spy training helped, but really, she'd been invisible her entire life. It wasn't an extraordinary super human type power, actually quite the opposite. She was completely nondescript, someone whose bland appearance made people's eyes skip over her. But it was because she didn't possess any sort of great natural ability that she could be extraordinary. Who would see her when she stole a person's hairclip so she could stop a bomb from detonating? Who would stop her when she walked across restricted grounds to escape an assassin? She smiled coyly at the answer: no one.

* * *

Cammie's grandmother was truly a sight to behold. She was in her "What happens in Nebraska stays in Nebraska" apron, she was covered with flour and swinging her hips along to the bluesy music echoing through the house. Her voice sang along with a raspy, sultry tone as she kneaded the dough to make apple fritters. What she called her 'tough cooking' muscles were flexed, and were quite impressive, Cammie thought.

Everyone laughed, and because her grandmother was just that charming, they sang along as well. (Including Joe Solomon- now that was even more of a sight to behold).

Christmas Eve was always a fun time in the Morgan household; crackling fires, Christmas pastries, and joyful hymns on the old "Morgan Organ."

Cammie thought they looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

But she knew that under the top layer of paint, were the darker secrets boiling under the surface. But then she looked at her grandmother and remembered that some people really did have nothing to hide.

Her grandpa got up and started dancing with her grandma, twirling her around as she laughed. Both of them had deeply etched laugh lines, and Cammie couldn't have felt more proud to know these people.

Suddenly he dipped her low and kissed her on the lips, and Cammie couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart. Zach had done that to her once. Back in sophomore year, back when she was still innocent, back before the Circle had ruined that innocence. And also back when liking Zach was a silly little girl crush, not liking-and-possibly-falling-in-love-with the boy whose mother had almost killed her several times.

He was on her side though, something they had covered extensively over the past year. (And Cammie was glad for it, because she was certain her little insanity escapade last semester would have been a lot worse had he left her).

She thought about last semester; about the things they'd learned and people they'd learned about. Gillian Gallagher: now even more of a hero in Cammie's eyes. Catherine Goode: after the same thing her father was after, though Cammie's father had slightly different intents for it. Samuel Winters: not to be trusted. Zach: to be absolutely, irrevocably trusted.

The CoveOps report she had written was dark and sad, especially compared to the one about Josh she had reread. She had thought she was dealing with difficult stuff when she had to make up fake birthdays to her boyfriend, and now she was dealing with the life or death of everyone she loved. When Bex read the report Cammie found her in the room sobbing during the beginning half of it. "You were so alone," she kept repeating, and while she had been alone she had also kind of deserved it.

"Dance with me, Cammie!" Her grandmother's voice whisked her out of her dark thoughts and into the present where there were presents and music and joyous old ladies dancing. Cammie got up and twirled around the kitchen, moving her hips slightly to the beat. Her grandma was perfectly in rhythm; dancing like it was a part of her.

Mr. Solomon, (who was feeling significantly better), got her mother on her feet, and together they moved in grand, elegant forms that looked suspiciously like something that Madame Dabney would teach in Advanced Formal Techniques.

As her grandma danced with her grandpa and her mother danced with Mr. Solomon, Cammie couldn't help but feel a little alone. She knew it was selfish, because there people like Zach who didn't have families to dance with, but she did miss him like crazy. But would he be the kind of person who would dance with her in front of her family? Would he even want to meet her grandparents, or would he think she was being annoying for asking?

But right now she would settle for just seeing him, and knowing he was okay.

She quietly slipped away from the chaos into the living room. She let herself fall onto the couch and really think, (something she usually tried to avoid, because thinking meant thinking of _him_, and that meant _distractedness)_.

He hadn't told her where he had planned on spending that winter break. As far as she could tell, he hadn't told anyone. Which bugged her of course, not only because she didn't know if he was safe, but because she couldn't be sure he would even try to keep himself safe.

Her thoughts got deeper and deeper, (and more and more _in depth)_, and she didn't even hear Mr. Solomon come in. "Thinking of anyone in particular?" From the tone of his voice she could tell he was teasing, but she could also tell he knew exactly how she was feeling. (Which, by the way, was not a good thing, because this was the man who has spent the last two and a half years teaching her how to keep her emotions in).

She laughed softly. "I don't even know where he is." She looked out a window, unable to meet his eyes.

He shook his head. "He didn't even tell me where he was going. Honestly, I don't think even he knew. Everything that's happened has made him a bit… stir crazy."

"Crazy is a relative term," She said as she shrugged. She spoke casually, but both of them knew the meaning behind those words.

He studied her, eyes level and calm. "It all depends on your perspective." He shifted, and she turned to face him. "I don't know if you realize how worried last semester made everyone. Are you really… okay?"

She sighed, wondering how long she was going to have to hear that question. "Yes. I feel different. Better. They really don't have me anymore." She thought of all that she still didn't remember, and knew that while she had escaped the Circle physically a while ago, she had just fully escaped them just weeks ago. "What about you? Someone doesn't go comatose for six months without working up a lot of worry, you know. Are _you_ really better?"

He smiled. "Yes. Your mother has… helped me." She smiled back and made a mental note to ask her about that later.

From the kitchen, they could hear the music playing and the voices still singing away, as if there wasn't anything in the world to care about, much less their dignity. Cammie's mother's voice was soft but her and Mr. Solomon listened to it and held onto it, knowing the moment wouldn't last long.

"You've helped her, too." She didn't know if she was referring to making her love again or helping her get over the closure about her father they had received last semester, but it didn't matter, because he had done both.

He looked at her and something passed between them, and Cammie could have sworn she just had a father-daughter moment with Joe Solomon.

He stood up and began walking towards the kitchen. "And Cammie, even if I don't know where Zach is," he looked at her with meaning, "I know exactly where he wants to be."

She just smiled, hoping it was true. "I'm going outside. I'll be in soon." Then she did what she did best and disappeared into the night.

* * *

It was already dark, and even though there was no one to hide from, she kept herself on edge as she made her way towards the barn. She climbed to the top and laid down, thinking about Zach and where he was and all of the places he might be and why he couldn't have been with her. But she mostly thought about just him.

Minutes passed, and she closed her eyes and she tried to stop thinking altogether. The air around her was dry and unmoving, and the cool Nebraskan night allowed her mind to slip into a meditative state. _Maybe the Buddhists are right,_ she thought,_ just let everything go…_

But of course there was one thought in particular she couldn't let go of, and in aggravation, she threw her head back and opened her eyes to a marvelous view of the sky.

"Zach," she whispered softly.

She heard someone behind her catch their breath, and her head whipped around to see him. Zach. The boy she had missed more than anyone else that break, and sometimes she thought to herself, _the boy._

But he was not the boy she wanted to see in that particular moment, because she felt as though she had been caught. And maybe she had. Maybe she wasn't supposed to miss him as much as she did.

"Cammie?" He seemed almost unsure, which was new for him.

She didn't know had to respond, (she was still wishing that it was a crazy-induced hallucination). She stared, and she knew she probably looked unattractive with her mouth hanging open, but there weren't many other options, (like escape, because _they were on a roof)._

Trying to salvage her dignity, she went for the confused-stalker-victim. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

"I… you looked upset." Their confused expressions mirrored each others'.

"And you happened to notice this on your walk through the neighborhood?" she said, gesturing to the empty surroundings.

"Why'd you say my name?" _Damn him for turning the conversation back to me, _she thought to herself.

She looked at him, deciding how to answer without giving too many of her thoughts away. "I missed you." She wondered what happened to not letting him know what she was thinking.

He smiled at her and suddenly he was there, with his arms wrapped tightly around her. "I'm glad." His breath made her shiver, which of course made him hold her tighter. "But I missed you more."

She didn't know what she was happier about, that he was there, or that he had missed her. "I'm glad," she whispered back, and they pulled away a bit and smiled at each other. "Where have you been?"

He looked at her a little sheepishly. "I came to Nebraska, but I never planned on interrupting your break. It just kind of… happened that I came." He closed his eyes and kissed her neck once, twice. "I couldn't stay away."

She concentrated on standing up as his trail of kisses made it up to her jaw line. Thankfully, they sat down and she tucked herself into the perfect spot next to him. "Well I don't want you to stay away," she said as she turned her head to look up at him, and they were so close that her eyelashes tickled his neck.

"Are you okay Gallagher Girl? You looked upset."

"I'm fine. Great, actually." She didn't meet his eyes because she knew he would see exactly what she was thinking if she did.

"Just wishing I was here?" She could tell he was teasing her, but when she looked at him he looked genuinely curious.

So she decided to take a chance. A chance with Zach was like making a wish, but she figured since it was Christmas Eve it was a good a time as any to do it. "Yes. And I got my Christmas wish."

His eyes drank her in. "So did I, Gallagher Girl." And with that, he kissed her, long and hard. She wondered for a second if he meant seeing her on Christmas, but she couldn't focus on that for too long seeing as Zach was reducing her to mush. Their hands were everywhere, just exploring and taking the other in. Cammie turned herself around and kissed him harder, never wanting to have to give him up.

They whispered each others' name softly when they broke apart and began kissing where ever they could find skin. Cammie couldn't think. She didn't even want to breathe for fear that he would disappear.

But he was right there and his mouth found hers again, and their tongues danced together. When they broke apart she clung onto him and sighed blissfully.

"Merry Christmas, Gallagher Girl."

She smiled because it was the best thing she had heard all day. "Merry Christmas, Zach."

It was dark and they didn't stay out for much longer. Cammie invited Zach to stay with them, and, incredulous, he said he would. They walked inside, and her grandparents could not have been more surprised at the handsome young boy who Cammie introduced as her boyfriend. Joe and Rachel, however, did not seem surprised at all that the two had found each other that break.

They all spent the evening laughing and eating and Cammie found out that Zach was the type to not only dance with her but her grandmother as well.

At the end of the night Zach found Cammie in her bedroom looking out the window. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder. She turned to him and smiled.

After a while of talking, they bid each other goodnight and he went back to his room. They thought about each other that night, and of the wishes they'd made that had come true. Smiles were on their faces when they thought of Christmas morning and what it would bring.

* * *

**And that, amigos, is what I think should happen durin****g the winter break.**

**-Angel**

**P.S. Imagine being Ally Carter right now. Seriously. **_**Owning**_** Zach Goode.**


End file.
